


(So Close) But Still A World Away

by orbythesea



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbythesea/pseuds/orbythesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has to remind himself that he's not supposed to want to kiss her, that he's really not supposed to want to sleep with her, that he's <i>especially</i> not supposed to fall in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(So Close) But Still A World Away

>   
> _I see you through the smokey air_  
>  Can't you feel the weight of my stare  
> You're so close, but still a world away  
> What I'm dying to say is that  
> I'm crazy for you.  
> -Madonna, _Crazy For You_  
> 

This is the first day of Thanksgiving break in their second year, and everyone's thinking ahead to finals but, with a few much-needed days off coming up, no one's really in the mood to do much about it.  A couple of the 3Ls who live in his building are hosting a party and there is the promise of loud music and free beer and he can't think of a better way to relax so, of course, she says she's not going.

"Come on, Leesh," he says, rolling his eyes.  "Beer.  Music.  Our fellow students of the law.  Nowhere to be in the morning."  That last one might not be strictly true, because he knows she's got big plans to spend the break in the library but it's not like she can be late for an appointment with herself.

"Law review draft due next week," she shoots back.  "Outlining for Corporations."  

"Beer.  Music.  Law students," he counters.  "Just for an hour or two."

"Peter's supposed to phone," she says, ducking her head. "I really can't, Will."

That might be a bullshit excuse, but he's never sure what to say when she mentions Peter.  Peter who she met over the summer. Peter who's already a lawyer and has passed the bar in three states and is an ASA in Chicago.  Peter who clerked for fucking Posner straight out of law school and whose father's on the Illinois Supreme Court and who's probably going to be a senator or some crap like that.  Peter with his smarmy grin and big hands that seemed to never not be touching her that time he came up for the weekend and the three of them went out for Mexican.

"Is he still bugging you to change your mind about Thanksgiving?" he says, finally, awkwardly.

She shakes her head.  "Yesterday, he was talking about ditching his family at the last minute to come out here, instead," she says.  "His mom would have a stroke."  She grins, as if she's sharing some kind of joke that he can't possibly get.  "I just-- We just don't have much time, you know?"

"Yeah, he shouldn't come out," Will says, too quickly, and he's not really sure what she means. "I mean-- "

"No, I agree," she says, and her grin is different, somehow, as if _they're_ sharing something instead, as if this is last year, as if--  And then the grin is gone, just like that.  "But Peter's supposed to phone, so I can't go to the, um, party, because I want to be home when he does."

"Come out after," he urges.

"Maybe," she says, but they both know she means 'no.'  Peter's going to phone and they're going to sit on the phone for hours cooing at one another and planning for a future that, more and more lately, he's pretty sure doesn't have a place in it for him.

So it's not that out of line to think that he's hallucinating when, a few hours later, when one song fades out before another fades in, he hears her voice.

He whips his head around, just to confirm that it's nothing more than wishful thinking, but she's _there_.  She's standing over by the table where one of their hosts has been pouring tequila shots all night, and he appears to be teaching her _how_ to do a tequila shot. Will didn't realize that was a skill that needed to be taught, but, then again, Alicia never does shots of any kind.

Alicia sticks to wine and beer, those safe things that she can sip on all night without getting more than a little bit tipsy because God forbid she ever get well and truly smashed.  He's starting to wonder if she's ever really gotten drunk in her life-- not tipsy, not proabably-shouldn't-drive, but _drunk_ \-- only she's downing another shot of tequila now, laughing as the 3L tells her that she's a quick study.  

She's radiant, taking the shot, the way she throws her head back, exposing pale expanse of her throat, impossibly white against the background of dark curls and-- _No._  He reminds himself, not for the first time, that she's his _best_ friend, not his--  that she's got a boyfriend, that she's the smartest, kindest person he's ever met and genuinely doesn't seem to know it, that he's lucky enough to be her friend at all.  He has to remind himself that he's not supposed to want to kiss her, that he's really not supposed to want to sleep with her, that he's _especially_ not supposed to fall in love with her.  Still, he can't stop staring.

"Will-- " He blinks a few times and when his focus comes back, she's caught him staring and is grinning like the cat who caught the canary. "Come do a shot with me," she yells from across the room, and a couple of heads turn.

She takes another shot as he's making his way over to her, and that's when he realizes that this isn't just Alicia trying to let her hair down, this is isn't Alicia giving in and relaxing for a night, this is Alicia trying to get _drunk_ and the warning bells start to go off in his head.

"Just one," he says as she presses the little plastic cup of gold liquid into his hand. "Tequila and I have a long and sordid history.  It's complicated, really, full of heartbreak and intrigue.  Lots of unexpected plot twists and--"  

"Does the story go something like 'once upon a time, you drank too much tequila and puked your guts out?'" she asks, grinning.

"Um, yeah, pretty much," he admits, and he downs the shot without ceremony.  She, meanwhile, seems to be enjoying the ritual more than the liquor itself.  She's methodical as she licks a bit of salt from her hand, careful as she throws her head back, and the way she sucks on that little slice of lime-- That's determination for you.

"Come on, let's mingle," he says, leaning in a bit too close, all in the name of being heard over the music.

"I don't want to mingle, Will, I want to drink," she shoots back.

"Take it easy, Cavanaugh," the 3L says, then, to Will, adds, "That was her fifth and she's only been here twenty minutes."  There's real concern in his eyes and even if Alicia doesn't pick up on it, Will sure as hell does.

"I'll look out for her," he says, and he doesn't have the faintest clue what's going on but at the rate she's going, it won't be long before she needs someone to hold her upright.

"I'm right here you know."  Alicia's poking him in the ribs, playful and irritated and it's pretty clear from the way the words sort of string together that the tequila's having its intended effect. "And I don't need to be… " she frowns,  "looked out for."

"I thought you weren't coming tonight," he says, trying to change the subject, trying to figure out what happened to the evening spent curling the phone cord up in her fingers with Peter's voice in her ear.

"Change of plans," she says, and yeah, she's drunk but he's pretty sure he's not invited to ask why. "Come on, I want a beer."  It takes him a second to make his feet start moving and, before he can follow her, he feels the 3L's hand around his arm.

"You're Will Gardner?" he asks, and when Will nods, he looks relieved. "Seriously, man, keep an eye on her. We're on law review together and something's up, 'cuz this-- "

Will nods. "Yeah, I know," he says, eyes following her as she makes her way through the room.  Later, he'll wonder what she's said about him and he'll be flattered that her law review buddy trusts him to keep her safe in spite of the reputation he's been earning for himself this year. Right now, he's not thinking about any of that. Right now Alicia's got a beer in her hand and is swaying in time to the music and she's attracting a crowd because he's not the only one who's never seen her drunk. "I've got her."

He spends the next hour or two at her side, barely drinking, not saying much, and feeling fucking helpless because every time he tries to suggest that another beer's not a great idea, someone else is putting one in her hand.

"C'mon," she says, careful and deliberate in her speech.  She's leaning in too close to him, a bit unsteady on her feet. "We're gonna take this party to the Mall.  Lincoln needs a beer."  She giggles and waves her own bottle around a bit, as if to emphasize her point.

He can't think of a worse idea than letting her get arrested for public intoxication while walking the length of the Mall except, maybe, letting her get arrested for defacing government property if she makes it the whole two miles down to the Lincoln Memorial. Though, judging from the way she's leaning into him for support, she probably wouldn't get more than a hundred yards.

"I've got a better idea," he says, carefully prying the beer bottle from her hand.

"And what's that, hmm?"  She shoots him a look that he thinks is meant to be dubious, but she's _really_ drunk so it doesn't quite work but still, he can't help but smile at it because she looks like she's trying So Hard.

He's not really sure what his idea is, but he knows it _doesn't_ involve drunkenly walking two miles in the cold and it _doesn't_ involve breaking any local or federal laws, and somehow, it's going to have to involve getting Alicia away from the easy supply of alcohol because she's seriously wasted. "It's a surprise," he says, pressing a hand against the small of her back to lead her towards the door.

"Is it a surprise for everyone, or just for me?" she asks.  She's leaning against him and letting him lead, so he slides an arm around her waist, keeping her steady, keeping her close.

"Just you," he says, ignoring the pout that's starting to appear on her face. "Come on, it's good, I promise."

She lets him lead her out the door and, mercifully, the elevator's quick to arrive.  Away from the crowd, she's less of a buoyant drunk and more of a clingy one, slipping both arms around him in the elevator and resting her head against his chest.  "You smell good," she murmurs, nuzzling against his shirt. "Like boy."

"Yeah?" he asks, and he can't help but smile at that.

"Yeah," she says, wobbling a bit as the doors open and she starts out of the elevator. "Don't you live here?" she asks, squinting out the doors at his hallway.

"I do," he confirms, and she must be even more drunk than he realized because how many times has she been here before?

"I've got a boyfriend," she slurs, but she's letting him walk her down the hall to his door anyway. "And you had a girlfriend last year, but this year I have a boyfriend. And so I think-- I mean, I _think_ \--  I really _think_ it would be a bad idea for the surprise to be sex." She's pressed so close to him, though, and she turns her head towards him and for a second he thinks she's going to kiss him anyway.

"I was thinking of something more along the lines drinking a gallon of water and watching _Blues Brothers_ until you sober up," he mumbles, turning away to fumble with his keys and even though it's the truth, it doesn't mean that it's not killing him a little bit to say it.  

Because yeah, okay, yeah, he really, really wants to have sex with her and she's just as good as told him that she knows it.  And sure, fine, he's done some shitty things with women, but he takes consent seriously and even if he _didn't_ , even if he was one of those assholes who thought that 'yes' was the same thing as consent when the girl's too out-of-her-mind wasted to know what 'yes' even means-- As much as he wants to see her naked (and he _really_ wants to see her naked), he didn't bring her up here to get in her pants. He's not that guy and she's drunk and even if he hadn't promised to take care of her, he _still_ wouldn't be that guy. And, really, more than he wants to fuck her, he's pretty sure he's in love with her and even more sure that she's in love with someone else, so he's not about to do something as stupid as lead with his dick.

He keeps telling himself this as he hands her a glass of water, keeps repeating it in his head as he waits for the video to rewind and when she nearly trips over him as she races to the bathroom, he's really, really glad he got her out of the party when he did.

He finds a spare, still-in-its-package toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and holds her steady as she brushes away the taste of vomit.

"Sorry," she keeps saying as he guides her back to the living room. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," he says with a cheerful grin.  He eases her down onto his futon, then grabs an empty bowl from the kitchen sets it down on the floor in front of her.  Just in case.  "Seriously, it happens to the best of us."

"Not me," she mumbles, looking up at him with big eyes.

"Yeah, I believe that," he admits, taking a seat next to her and reaching for the remote.

She curls up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I think I'm drunk," she says, as if it's some big revelation.

"Yeah," he agrees with a bit of a smile. "Probably."  Pause. "You wanna tell me why?"  It's a dangerous question and he's not asking about tequila or beer, but that's an easy enough out and, truthfully?  He's pretty sure she's not going to remember this tomorrow anyway, so--

"Peter."  She mutters his name like a curse. "We had our first fight."  She draws out the word 'we' so it's long and expressive and whether it's to emphasize their couplehood or buy time to think about her answer or just that she's drunk, he doesn't know.

He slides an arm around her shoulder. "Sorry," he says, but he's not, not really, because even though he's only met Peter once, he really, really hates the guy.

"Don't tell him about this," she murmurs, eyes fluttering closed and Will pulls her closer to him.

"Never," he promises.

"'Kay."

He strokes her hair, smiling down at her for a few minutes. "You should dump him," he whispers, because, well, it's probably the only chance he'll ever get to say it.  When she doesn't respond, he's pretty sure she's asleep, and he repeats it. "You should dump Peter." He swallows, twisting one of her curls around his finger. "And last summer, Helena didn't dump me, I broke up with her.  Because-- " he hesitates, listening to her breathing, and either she's really good at faking it or she's totally asleep and he'd put money on it being the latter.  "Because I wanted to be with you.  I've wanted to be with you from the first night that we met.  I thought you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and then to find out you're the smartest girl, no, seriously, the smartest, the _best_ person I've ever known--  " He should stop, he knows, but he can't, and the words just keep coming. "I love you, Leesh, you know? I mean, you don't, obviously, but I do and look, I get it, you're in love with Peter and I'm-- well, I'm not okay with it, but I get it, sort of, and I'd never-- I just love you, Alicia.  I just do."

And then he just sits there, stroking her hair and listening to her breathe and he must eventually nod off because when he opens his eyes the sun is streaming through the blinds and he's alone.


End file.
